


47 Barbed Wire Miles and a Cobra Neck Tie By The Roadside

by ptbvisiongrrl



Series: Home for Wayward Children [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anti-Homophobia, F/F, Family, Good Dad Dean, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-14 02:52:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9156430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ptbvisiongrrl/pseuds/ptbvisiongrrl
Summary: One-shot sequel to Home for Wayward Children. Morgan has some issues fitting in at the new school and acts out. Dean is a great Dad in his response.





	

**Author's Note:**

> FIC TITLE: 47 Barbed Wire Miles and a Cobra Neck Tie By The Roadside  
> Author- PTBvisiongrrl  
> Part- 1/1  
> Date- 1/1/17  
> Rating – PG-13/T  
> Pairings/Characters- Sam/Dean brother bond; Dean/Castiel romantic relationship  
> Word Count- 6,542  
> Genre- Angst, Family  
> Warnings- Spoilers- One-shot sequel to my Home for Wayward Children. Deals with issues of confused sexuality and bisexuality, as well as consent and bullying.  
> Disclaimers- Unfortunately, I don’t own any of these characters, and make absolutely no profit from taking them out to play…so please don’t sue me. If I did own them, there would be a lot more shirtless Winchesters and Angels of the Lord getting some on the show!  
> Summary-  
> One-shot sequel to Home for Wayward Children. Morgan has some issues fitting in at the new school and acts out. Dean is a great Dad in his response.

Colton looked like he had run a marathon, climbed a mountain, and then downed a case of Mountain Dew. He was red, sweaty, and shaking as he burst into the Bunker garage and slammed the door behind him.

Dean heard his arrival, chuckling as he slid out from beneath the ancient Morgan three-wheeler, ready to make a kidding comment to razz the teen until he saw Colton’s appearance. “Colt, what’s wrong?”

Wide-eyed and speechless, Colton just shook his head. “I think Morgan is hexed, or possessed, or—something. She’s acting weird.”

“She’s a teenaged girl. They always act weird.” Dean shrugged it off, studying Colton’s face and heavy breathing. “How was she weirder than usual?”

Colton started to talk, but cut himself off. And did it again. Then thunked his head back against the door and sighed.

Dean wiped his hands as clean as he could with a greasy rag, then pulled two long necks out of the old green cooler that lived in the Impala’s trunk. Using the edge of the tool bench, Dean popped both beer caps off and handed one to Colton, who proceeded to down it in one go. Dean raised one eyebrow, studying the boy. “Okay, there’s the liquid courage. Now tell me how the hell she spooked you so badly.”

Colton still looked really, really uncomfortable, so Dean gave him another beer. This one went slower, only half-way gone before pausing. “Morgan kissed me.”

Dean did a spit take. He knew, when he took these hunter kids in, that he would be dealing with less than Little House or The Waltons moments. Dean was prepared to deal with the PTSD. Nightmares, weapons, and anxiety were the norm for hunters. He figured he could swing the hormonal teenage stuff, even with the girls, if only by using his hound dog past as an example of what the girls should avoid. But he had not considered the simmering pot of hormones in a house of non-related males.

Oh, shit, was all Dean could think. “She kissed you?” Dean asked, his voice a bit deeper and louder than usual from his own shock.

Colton actually ducked his head down at the sound, as if he expected a cuff to the head. “I didn’t kiss her first, and I didn’t kiss her back. I don’t like her like that!”

Dean carefully kept his body still, except to slowly raise his beer for a mouthful. “I believe you.”

There was a sigh of relief and another sip of beer before Colton continued. “Why did she do that? What did I do to make her think I wanted that? Geez, she’s like a sister. That was NOT a brother/sister kiss.”

“Why do women do half of what they do?” Dean asked, only half-joking. Finishing his own beer and getting himself a second one, Dean leaned back on the odd British car/bike hybrid he had been working on and crossed his arms. “Tell me what happened.”

“I didn’t do anything to encourage her!” Colton was quick to point out again, his voice a little higher than usual, showing his stress over the kiss.

Dean moved next to Colton, leaning against the wall, and patted his shoulder. “I believe you, bud. You aren’t in trouble here.”

“I don’t want to get Morgan in trouble, either!” Colton was quick to add.

Shaking his head, Dean said, “If Morgan gets in trouble, its Morgan who gets herself in trouble. Not you. Tell me what happened.”

Colton looked like a little boy, uncomfortable and a little bit frightened. “I finished my schoolwork for the day, so I went to my room to change so that I could help you in the garage. I really wasn’t paying attention when I went in, so I didn’t see her there until after I had taken off my shirt, when I was turning around to toss it into the laundry basket. And that’s when she was—there. On the bed. In her underwear.”

“Fuck,” Dean muttered. “At least she had something on.”

“That’s what you are most concerned with here?” Colton squeaked again.

“Not most, but it’s a positive,” Dean shrugged. “Continue.”

Closing his eyes and sighing, Colton shook his head but continued. “I asked her what she was doing in my room, dressed like that, and all she did was stand up and ask if I liked what I saw.”

“Double fuck,” Dean muttered. What the hell was going on with the other-wise sensible girl? This was beyond the pale.

Colton’s jaw muscles twitched. “I closed my eyes and told her to leave. I heard her get off the bed and start walking across the room, but then she stopped in front of me and grabbed me. I mean, like, wrapped her hands around my neck and in my hair and pulled me down to kiss her. I didn’t, though!” Colton again looked at Dean panicked.

“You are not in trouble, Colton,” Dean reiterated. “What else happened?”

“What else?” Colton shouted. “She suctioned on like a freakin’ vacuum cleaner. It was like fighting an octopus trying to get away from her. I finally just had to shove her away. I didn’t shove her that hard, honest, just enough to get away. And I told her that I don’t like her that way.”

“I know you treated her as gently as you could while defending yourself.” Dean considered his words. “Sounds like Morgan is having some female crisis and you were the closest, safest male to throw herself at.”

“That isn’t really reassuring,” Colton muttered. “Will you go straighten her out? I’d like to be able to trust I’m safe in my own bedroom.”

Finished his beer, Dean agreed. “Yeah, I’ll go talk to her—“

Sam’s bellowing, “DEAN!” cut the conversation short as Dean sped into the main part of the Bunker.

**S & C/D… S & C/D… S & C/D… S & C/D… S & C/D…**

Dean found Sam, hair damp and towel draped over his flannel-covered shoulders, in his bedroom doorway, arms crossed and angry. “What the hell, Dean?” was all that Sam said, pushing the door open all the way for Dean to see Morgan spread across Sam’s bed, one of Sam’s huge t-shirts practically falling off of her.

Dean closed his eyes, forcing a deep breath through is nostrils. “Morgan! What is going on with you? First Colton, now Sam?”

Morgan bit her lip and refused to meet Dean’s eyes or speak. She at least tried to cover up a little more on the bed, but she made no move to leave or explain herself. “Well?” Dean demanded. “Explain!”

Morgan’s eyes welled up with tears, but she gamely tried to keep them from falling as she shook her head, shrugging. Sam looked at Dean, absolute confusion on Sam’s face, and raised an eyebrow. “Colton, too?” he asked, as silence grew more oppressive.

Colton had poked his head in when he and Dean had arrived, and then quickly retreated back to the hallway when he saw what was going on. “Yup. She did the same thing to me,” he echoed from the open hall way. “And then kissed me!”

The confusion on Sam’s face faded into concern. “What is this all about, Morgan?” he asked, his voice much softer and gentler than five minutes ago. “What made you think to do this?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Morgan whispered, the shame in her voice audible to all who were present.

“Then you need to go think about why you did this, in your room. Don’t come out until I tell you to,” Dean stated, his voice calm and steady. He stood at the end of the bed until Morgan got up and made her way out. She stopped in front of Sam, staring at the ground, and mumbled an apology to him. She did the same on her way past Colton in the hallway.

None of the males moved until they heard her bedroom door close. Then Sam blew out an angry breath, asking the room, “What the fuck is going on around here today?”

“Curse? Hex?” Colton offered. “That time of the month?”

Dean frowned at that one. “Never use that as an excuse for crazy behavior. I learned that pretty fast.” At Sam’s questioning look, Dean shrugged and added, “Lisa had one hell of a right hook.”

Sam actually laughed a little at that. “Jessica had a particular tone of voice she would use when I crossed an unacceptable gender barrier, but none quite so shrill as for that one.”

“So why did my foster-sister try to assault me earlier?” Colton demanded, clearly unnerved by the events of the day and not at all amused by Dean and Sam’s shared remembrances of living with their women.

“Good question,” Sam answered. “I can’t see someone planting a hex bag in her room—but maybe someone from school, in her school bag?”

“And Morgan wouldn’t see that?” Dean scoffed. “Maybe possession?”

“Demon shouldn’t be able to pass the latest round of sigils and protections we put up, after the kids got here,” Sam discounted the theory.

Colton shook his head impatiently. “Then a spell. Who and how?”

Dean scoffed again. “Morgan is too smart to let a witch get ahold of something to use for a spell.”

“Then what the fucking hell is making her act like this?” Colton demanded. “If we can’t come up with anything, then we need to start testing the ideas we do have.”

Dean and Sam agreed, albeit reluctantly. “She’s going to think we don’t trust her to protect herself, if we test her,” Sam stated.

“Well, right now, I don’t trust her,” Colton added. “At all. We need to do something.”

“Okay,” Dean acknowledged. “Let’s get supplies, and Sam and I will test her.”

“What? Why not me?” Colton angrily demanded.

“Because if she’s supernaturally okay, and there is something else more mundane going on with her, I don’t want her to feel like she can’t come and talk to you. You’re closest to her age, and she may need to talk. It’s just in case.” Dean frowned, deeply.

Colton reluctantly agree. “Fine. I’ll be waiting in the library.”

 

**S & C/D… S & C/D… S & C/D… S & C/D… S & C/D…**

 

Morgan took the need to test her about as well as Dean thought she would. “I’m telling you, it’s not something supernatural. Please just leave me alone. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Too late for that,” Dean stated. “Just an incident with Colton, that might be some female teenage thing you need to work out. I could see just grounding you, confining you to your room until you explained why you attacked him without his consent. But Sam, too? He’s old enough to be your dad, and has a girlfriend that you know and love. Something doesn’t add up, here.”

Morgan did her best to keep the tears in, but the shake in her voice gave it away to Dean. “I really, really don’t want to talk about it. I’m sorry for what I did. It was stupid and won’t happen again.”

“I already know it won’t happen again,” Dean answered. “If it isn’t supernatural, you now know better, and if it is supernatural, Sam and me’ll fix it. I’m more concerned with the why it happened, which you either don’t know or won’t share.”

Morgan sighed, rolling up her shirt sleeve to hold out her arm for the tests. “I’ll let you test me. But if it’s not supernatural, I’m still not talking.”

“And that’s your choice. Just like its mine to confine you to your room, except for school, the bathroom and meals, until you choose to talk to me about it,” Dean countered, quickly cutting her forearm with a silver knife and studying her blood. After a moment, he nodded to Sam to start the Latin exorcism ritual and shoved an iron bar into Morgan’s left hand.

Morgan didn’t even flinch once the exorcism was complete; nor did she flinch at holy water, salt, copper, burnt sage, or blessed objects of various faiths. She also didn’t react to the Haitian hoodoo, Buddhist, or Jewish exorcism rituals. Sam searching her school bag brought a reaction, though.

A reaction that made Sam and Dean search the bag and contents more thoroughly than they had planned. Which is why, while Sam flipped through texts and notebooks, Dean actually took the time to smooth out and read the loose-leaf papers crumbled up in the bottom. All of them. Each and every hateful word.

Morgan acting out suddenly made a great deal more sense.

Looking up, Dean caught Morgan quickly looking away, as if she hadn’t been staring at Dean while he was reading. The movement broke the seal on her watering eyes, and tears had left clear tracts down her rosy cheeks. Studying Morgan’s attempt at nonchalant dismissal, Dean stood up and sent Sam away. “Hey, Sammy? I think I got it from here. Go check on Cole, please.”

Sam sighed and crinkled his forehead, but put the pile of searched books back into Morgan’s backpack and left the room without protest. After Sam exited, Dean closed the door quietly and sat down next to Morgan on the bed, the crumpled notes still clutched in his hand.

Dean gave the silence about five minutes according to the bedside alarm clock, but it felt more like an hour with his internal turmoil. “When did you get these? Who are they from?”

Morgan repositioned herself so that she sat on the opposite side of the bed as Dean, her back to his. “I got the first one this past Monday morning. It was left in my locker. I have no proof who it is from.”

“If you say no proof, you have someone in mind. Who?” Dean gently prodded, honoring Morgan’s silent request to not look at her.

Morgan shook her head, the tears beginning to become audible. “This isn’t something you can salt and burn, Dean. This is just stupid kids being mean to the new girl. Not the first time I’ve been bullied, probably won’t be the last. People suck. It’s a fact. Accept it and let me deal with it my own way.”

“Could never listen to Sammy when he said that bullshit, either. I know you can fight this on your own—but this isn’t just about you. Notes like these? These are hate crimes. This isn’t they don’t like you. This is they don’t like something about yourself that you cannot control and cannot change, and hating lots of other people out there that are just like you, which is wrong.” Dean paused for a few minutes, trying to calm himself. “Okay, but the part of it about you, that I want to hear. Tell me what happened.”

Morgan shrugged. “Michael Brandon asked me out Tuesday before last.”

Dean arched an eyebrow when Morgan took too long to continue. “A-a-a-a-nd?”

“I politely told him no, thanks.” Morgan shrugged. “All the girls at school drool all over him, but I just don’t see the appeal.”

Considering the story and Dean’s own extensive experience of repeatedly negotiating the cliques of high school, Dean offered a guess. “Some girl got jealous?”

“Try half the junior class,” Morgan sighed, wiping the tears off her cheeks and sliding across to sit next to Dean. “And he didn’t take it too well, either.”

“What did he do?” Dean tried to keep his voice even, but there was a protective growl to its tenor that he could not help.

“He was just in shock, didn’t say anything to me, even when I excused myself and said good-bye. Then, the next day, he asked me again. He made sure that there were witnesses this time, just a couple of his friends and their followers.” Morgan pinched the bridge of her nose. “And then again, on Friday, with an even bigger audience.”

“That can’t have been everything he did,” Dean pushed, wrapping his arm around Morgan’s shoulders as he did and drawing her into a side Dad-hug.

“No, it wasn’t. When I said no, the third time, he got mad and followed me into the girls’ bathroom. He wanted to know why I wouldn’t go out with him. He wouldn’t accept that I just wasn’t into him like that. He actually said that everyone likes him and asked me what was wrong with me. Said that he had done me such a solid, trying to ask the new girl out and how it would make me popular, and that I didn’t appreciate what he had done for me.”

Dean had gone a little rigid, angry at the little prick and angry at himself that Morgan hasn’t come to him with this earlier. It was obvious that it had been bothering her a great deal. “Did he lay a hand on you?” came out before Dean could stop it.

Morgan looked directly at Dean and smiled darkly. “If he had, he’d have lost that hand and school would have already called you about me.”

Dean nodded, jaw tight and lips tightly compressed, reassured that Morgan could defend herself from a normal human male. “True, I’ll give you that. How did you get him to leave?”

“I didn’t,” Morgan shook her head. “Emily did.”

“Emily is the girl you’ve been friendly with, right? Facetiming her and stuff?” Dean asked to confirm the girl’s identity.

“Yeah,” Morgan agreed, very softly. “Emily and I really hit it off. I never had a friend like her before. Hell, I never really had a friend before. You know what its like. And I thought she was…a friend. That things would be different here. I was wrong.”

“Did Emily start the notes?” Dean asked, truly puzzled. If the girl was a friend, how could she do this to Morgan?

“No, she didn’t start the notes. She came into the bathroom to look for me, just then. Said a teacher was looking for me, took my arm and pulled me out into the hall.” Morgan shrugged. “That weekend, Michael asked her out, got her drunk, and then grilled her all about me. I don’t blame her. She’s sweet and I’m sure getting asked out by Michael Brandon was head-turning. And I know she doesn’t usually drink. So she didn’t mean to tell him, but it happened.”

Dean’s entire body tensed. “What did Emily tell him?”

Again, Morgan looked up at Dean and smiled. “She does not know about hunting, or the supernatural. I’m not stupid. I KNOW not to say anything about that. I just wish I was smart enough to not tell her that I’m bisexual.” The tears pooled again, then, and Morgan buried her face in Dean’s neck.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Dean just held Morgan and let her sob it out.

“I’m not mad at her for it, I’m not,” Morgan repeated. “She didn’t realize what she was saying, she was so drunk. But I am mad at Michael. He told everyone, and then said that I was obviously not confused anymore, that I must have decided to be a straight-up lesbian.”

Rocking Morgan gently, Dean just let her get it all out. He knew the difficulty of negotiating that line between bi and gay, knew the petty cruelty of teenagers about it as well. Dean had managed to avoid a lot of this by simply rejecting that side of himself for years; but that had also delayed his life with Cas by almost a decade. And that was definitely not a mental dysfunction he wanted his adopted daughter to deal with. “You can be bisexual and not into everyone, just like you can be hetero and not into every dude you meet.”

“I know that. I do!” Morgan pulled herself into a sitting position. “But…well, maybe I’m not bi after all.”

“Because this guy tells you that you can’t be into guys if you don’t want him?” Dean asked harshly. “Bullshit.”

“But I really don’t know if I’m into guys,” Morgan insisted. “I mean, I think I am, but I’ve never had the chance.”

Dean licked his lips, considering his words. He hated chick flick moments, he really did, even if he was now able to admit that good things sometimes came of them. And this was going to be all touchy-feely, if he had to talk about bisexuality and his own experience. “What do you mean, never had the chance? You’ve made comments about hot actors while we were watching movies, so you do find men attractive. You blush every time that red-headed dude is our cashier at Walmart.”

“I think I do. I mean, I learned how girls are supposed to act about guys. I can admire a good looking guy, without wanting to have sex with him—“ Morgan chuckled at the pained look that crossed Dean’s face at sex. “And I find women attractive as well, I just don’t talk about it. Never had anyone to listen to me who would understand.” Morgan ducked her head a little, her sincerity making her blush. “I’ve never kissed a boy. I’ve kissed girls, but never a guy. Just never had an opportunity. Maybe I only THINK I’m bi and I’m not.”

“That’s something I can’t figure out for you. You don’t have to kiss a guy to know if you like guys. I’m proof of that. Cas is the first guy I’ve ever been with. There were guys before that just had something about them…but not enough to do anything about it.” Dean signed, and rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. “I’d like to think my dad would have been able to handle it, that Bobby wouldn’t have cared…but I was too scared to be wrong to let them know. Didn’t change who and what I liked, though, just kept me quiet about it.”

“I know you don’t care how queer I may or may not be, Dean,” Morgan whispered. “But I need to know. Maybe something is wrong with me, that I didn’t say yes. Any other girl in that school would have said yes in a heartbeat.”

“You are not every other girl. You are Morgan Remington. You are a WINCHESTER. We do things our own way and damn the rest to hell.” Dean brushed a kiss to Morgan’s forehead. “And the point of all this is NOT your sexuality. The missed point is that this dick Michael—it’s the damn name, I swear—did not honor your no. No means no, and the reason behind it is not never up for debate.”

“Well, the rest of the school thinks that the reason I said no is important, because it makes me weird and someone they can all reject and feel better than. Doesn’t matter if its right or wrong, it’s what high school is like.” Morgan sighed again and got up. “I’m sorry I tried to kiss Colton and Sam. I’ll apologize to them again.”

“I think apologies are a good idea, but it’s up to you how much of the back story you give. I won’t share this with them unless you want me to.” Dean turned to face her more directly, folding one leg up at the knee. “Except Cas. He’ll keep it to himself, though. Okay?”

“Thanks,” Morgan sniffled.

“But you are going to have to do something about this bullying,” Dean stated, knowing Morgan was not going to react well. “It’s all about controlling the narrative, right? You turned Michael down, he tried to spread what he thought would be a mean rumor, and others are treating it like a put-down when it shouldn’t be.”

“Maybe leave that last part out,” Morgan critiqued.

Dean brushed the tears off her cheeks again. “Definitely leave that last part in. I know this will be hard, but I will be there with you. We have to talk to the principal about this, because it’s a hate crime, sweetheart.”

“It will only get worse if I try to do anything about it,” Morgan protested.

“It can’t get worse,” Dean picked up the notes he had dropped sometime during the conversation and waved them at her from a tightly fisted grip. “What else can they do? Physical intimidation won’t work, and we both know it. There will be one attempt before you scare the shit out of them, with my permission. But this psychological stuff, we gotta end it before it messes your head up more. I mean, c’mon, these dicks made you try to kiss Sam. That’s a clear cry for help.”

Morgan laughed, as intended, even if it wasn’t as full a laugh as Dean would have liked. “We will go in to the principal’s office on Monday, you, me, and Cas. Unless you want Sam there? The lawyer training and all might be helpful in cowing the principal, if he’s resistant—“

“She. The principal is a she, Dr. Woodlynn. And I don’t think Sam will scare her. She’s 6’ 5’ and a former Marine.” Morgan smiled at Dean’s sudden mild loss of bravado.

“Well, then, just you, me and Cas.” Dean stood up. “I’m going let you go get yourself together, and then apologize to Sam and Colton. I think you should stay in your room tonight after dinner, though.”

“Okay, Dean,” Morgan easily agreed. The maelstrom in her head for the past two weeks had quieted just a little. Even if it was just a brief respite, she was grateful.

 

**S & C/D… S & C/D… S & C/D… S & C/D… S & C/D…**

 

Dean and Cas wore nicer jeans and buttoned button-up, non-plaid dress shirts Monday morning, and left the weapons in the car. Morgan walked behind them slowly, staring at the cracked cement, as if she was going to her own execution. Dean kept stopping so that she could catch up. “What’s with the lagging behind? You know we gotta do this, Morgan.”

And indeed, she did know. They had discussed it at length last night, as well as some other things, when Morgan has trouble getting to sleep due to her anxiety. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it,” she muttered.

Cas wrapped an arm around her shoulders and gave a squeeze. “Let’s go smite this little prick as best we can, with human rules.”

Morgan smiled at him, and picked up the pace to keep even with the long-legged men, leading them to the main office. An inquiry to meet with the principal led to a half-hour wait on the office’s wooden bench, a torturous device Dean was sure had been a church pew once upon its life. Given the bustle and noise of the office around them, the three did not engage in much conversation before they were called back to a conference room.

Dr. Woodlynn stood to greet the men, and if Dean had not been used to Sam towering over him for a good two-thirds of his life, he might have been disconcerted by the woman’s height. But he was used to it and was not bothered at all. Dean firmly shook the administrator’s hands, as did Cas, before sitting in the indicated seats. “What can I help you with, Misters Remington?”

Dean sat straighter at the greeting, and took a deep breath. He felt more pressure sitting here as a parent than he ever did as an in-trouble, failing student. “Morgan is having a problem with a few classmates, particularly Michael Brand. She has been receiving notes in her locker calling her names and bullying her.”

Dr. Woodlynn’s eyebrow immediately raised, and reached for a legal pad and pen to take notes. Dean could see that she wrote the boy’s name down from where he was sitting. “What do these notes day, exactly?” The question was directed to Morgan, who reached into her backpack and handed the notes over to the principal.

Woodlynn read over the notes, seemingly not reading them but obviously at least skimming the content. “I’m going to have Ms. Eder photocopy these.”

Before she could rise and go to her administrative assistant, Dean shook his head. “Already did that. You can keep these originals.”

‘Thank you,” Woodlynn replied. “Now, about the content—“ she paused for a moment, studying Morgan and ignoring her two dads. “This is hate speech. It is a clear violation of the student code of conduct, and is unacceptable in this school community.” Both Morgan and Dean slumped a little in relief at those words, only to have the next words make them straighten again. “That said, it is only a suspendable offense. I cannot put the boy up for expulsion unless he made threats of physical harm based on the speech. I didn’t see any threats in the notes. Did he make any verbal threats to you, Morgan?”

Morgan was still trying to catch up to the principal’s support of her side, without doubt or extensive cross-examination. “Uh, no, not verbal. I mean, he kept bothering me, asking me out even though I kept saying no—“

The principal cut her off there again. “You made it clear that you were not interested, and he kept pursuing you?”

“Yes. I made it very clear. All three times.” Morgan began to pick at a thread hanging off her jeans. “And the third time, he followed me into the girls’ bathroom and demanded to know why I wouldn’t go out with him. He didn’t accept the answer that I just didn’t like him like that.”

“Did you feel physically threatened at this point?” Woodlynn asked, making a lot of notes on her legal pad.

Morgan shrugged her head. “No.”

“So he wasn’t using his greater size to intimidate you? He didn’t put a hand on you?” Woodlynn met Morgan’s eyes again. “You don’t have to be afraid to tell the truth.”

Morgan laughed. “I’ve had martial arts training since I could toddle. If he put a hand on me, you would have immediately known from his screams.”

Woodlynn frowned a little, obviously impressed with the answer but, as a school leader, unable to show it. “The school frowns on violence.”

“Morgan is well aware that her skills are to be used for self-defense only,” Cas interrupted. “But her skill also makes her more sure of herself than other girls her age. If you didn’t have training, do you think Michael’s actions could have been interpreted as threatening?”

Morgan nodded. “I think so. I mean, Emily came into the bathroom to make sure I was okay, so she obviously thought he seemed to be a threat to me. That’s how I was able to walk away at that point.”

Woodlynn nodded. “Then, yes, I would say he was trying to physically intimidate you. Given that it was to go on a date, and you had already rejected him, that would make this a sexual harassment claim as well as an incidence of hate speech. That ups the ante for punishment. Most of the handwriting was the work of one person, but not all. If he talked others into harassing you as well, THAT makes it possible to recommend Michael’s expulsion.”

Morgan studied Dr. Woodlynn. “Why are you so ready to kick him out? You barely know me, yet take my story on full faith?”

Dean shot Morgan a look, but she missed it, still staring at Woodlynn. Woodlynn smiled. “You aren’t used to being believed by teachers, are you, Morgan?”

“No, I guess not.” Morgan agreed. “I always moved around a lot. No one really ever got to know me.”

“That explains the attitude,” Woodlynn acknowledged. “But you have notes here—proof. This isn’t a he said/she said. And this is not the first time Mr. Brand has been brought to my attention. Enough that, while I will have him complete a writing sample to prove he wrote most of those notes, I can already tell you he did, and so did his two best friends and sister. You aren’t the first student they’ve bullied. The question is, are you the first student who can stand up and fight them.”

“What do you mean?” Dean interrupted to ask.

“Mr. Brand’s father owns the paper plate factory over on I-10. He employs half the town. Most childrens’ parents chose to drop complaints.” Dr. Woodlynn sat back and toyed with her pen. “Mr. and Mr. Remington. Are you sure you want to push ahead with this? I will back you. I will not back down. Will you?”

Dean studied the principal’s face. He sensed a spine of steel in there, and so far, she seemed to want to make the situation right. “I don’t care if that little prick’s father is the King of England. He doesn’t get to act like to any girl, much less MY girl.”

A huge smile cracked Dr. Woodlynn’s face. “I was hoping you would feel that way.” Rising, she called out to her secretary to call Brand to her office from class. “Let’s proceed.”

 

**S & C/D… S & C/D… S & C/D… S & C/D… S & C/D…**

 

The boy was tall and blond, with golden hazel eyes. He wasn’t movie-star handsome, but Dean could see how Brand would be looked at like local royalty. Dean mentally thanked Chuck that he and Sam had never been in any small town long enough to have to deal with a jackass like this for long. “Dr. Woodlynn?” the boy asked as he stopped on the threshold, Morgan the first person he saw and he noticeably paled.

“Yes, Mr. Brand. Come in and have a seat. We need to have a discussion.” Dr. Woodlynn motioned to the only other empty seat, and stood until Brand sat down. “A discussion about your possible expulsion.”

“What?” Brand demanded. “I haven’t done anything you can suspend me for, much less expel me!”

“Sexual harassment, organizing group bullying, bullying yourself, and engaging in hate speech and hate acts.” Dr. Woodlynn held up the letters. “Two weeks suspension to begin with, moving towards expulsion.”

“Don’t I even get to defend myself?” Brand demanded.

“You can explain your side, yes. Did you ask Morgan out last week?”

“Yes.” Brand said, low and monotone.

“How many times?” Woodlynn asked, her voice calm and professional.

“Uh,” Brand tried to avoid and then gave up. “Three times.”

“Did you corner her in the girls’ bathroom after the third time?” Woodlynn pressed.

“I want my parents,” Brand decided to be difficult.

“If you bring your parents into this, and obstruct my investigation, I will be happy to start formal expulsion proceedings. That will make this into a public hearing, in front of the school board. Do you really want that, Michael?” Woodlynn made it seem like talking was the best route, and Dean had to admire her technique.

 

“Public hearing?” Michael asked, getting paler.

“Basically, Michael,” Cas interjected, “My daughter will get to publically state that she does not want to date you, and that you tried to force her to date you. And that when that didn’t work, you tried to intimidate her by spreading rumors that you thought would hurt her. Thought, because you are wrong. Sexuality is not something to shame a person with; trying to do so is a crime.” Cas’s blue eyes were steady and hot, almost as if he could still smite at will.

Brand opened his mouth and closed it, swallowing several times. “I want my parents. Now.”

Woodlynn nodded, and indicated for the Remingtons to leave. Following them out to the main office and away from Brand’s ears, she said, “Thank you for your report. I will proceed with the investigation, and let you know later this afternoon how it turned out. Mr. Brand is about to be suspended, and his parents will have to come pick him up. I suggest you go home for the day and report directly to the office when you come in tomorrow. I want to be there when you open your locker tomorrow morning, and see what presents you’re left.”

Morgan, still surprised at how things were turning out, thanked the principal. “I’ll, uh, do that.”

 

**S & C/D… S & C/D… S & C/D… S & C/D… S & C/D…**

 

Morgan stood nervously at the front desk the next morning, Emily beside her. Emily was still contrite and nervous around Morgan, although Morgan really didn’t blame her. Dr. Woodlynn promptly followed Morgan to her locker, watching as Morgan twisted and turned the combination lock. There was a stack of notes, all sorts of different colored papers and written in different inks—at least twenty. But most were anonymous sorries for how she had been treated and statements of support. Only a couple were scathing anti-gay comments, which were gathered up quickly by the principal and taken back to her office for tracking down the culprits.

As promised, she texted Dean after the locker visit. _Lots of nice notes, couple of haters. W took those._

Dean immediately texted back. _Are you okay?_

Morgan laughed at the message. _I guess. How is this supposed to feel?_

_IDK, lol. Have a good day. Text if you have any problems._

_Okay, Dean. Thanks. I mean that. Cas, too._

There was a long pause of dancing dots as Dean composed his answer. Finally, he said, _I’ll pass that along. We love you, sweetheart._

Morgan answered quickly, before she could second guess herself. _Love you, too._

Emily had patiently waited until the exchange was over. “So, everyone okay now?”

“Yeah, Ems,” Morgan answered. “I think so.” Taking a deep breath, Morgan thought back to her conversation with Dean last night over all this, how the worst part of this whole mess was really how it made her question herself and what she knew about herself. And how, as Dean insisted, Morgan shouldn’t give a damn what other people thought about her likes and dislikes.

So Morgan followed his advice again. “Ems, you wanna go get some ice cream afterschool today?”

Emily smiled but shook her head. “I don’t have money with me, sorry.”

“I’ll pay,” Morgan quickly offered.

Emily struggled, her mouth squirming all over her face before she answered. “Is this, you’re my friend and pay, or is this, you are interested in me and this is like a date?”

Morgan lost her voice for a moment, and shrugged. “Either way, I’m paying today. I would really like it to be a date, but either is fine with me. What do you want?”

Silence echoed around them. Emily twisted a pen in her hand and clutched her books to her chest. She looked to the ground and up at Morgan’s eyes, and then down again. “I’m not sure yet.”

Morgan smiled, hopeful. “You don’t have to decide anything other than chocolate or vanilla, then, okay?”

Emily smiled back shyly. “Okay. But maybe I’ll do less traditional. Maybe raspberry and dark chocolate?”

“Whatever you want, Em,” Morgan answered, following her friend down the hall after taking a moment to text Dean back again. _Going for ice cream after school. Home by 5?_

Dean sent back a thumbs up, and one simple sentence. _Congratulations on your first girlfriend._


End file.
